


we decided to be infinite

by laylax



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, already posted this on tumblr, forgot how depressing it was sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 03:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laylax/pseuds/laylax
Summary: It’s the last day of August when she finally hears his voice again. The streets are colored, burnt auburn and hues of colors that remind her of New York; a life before Riverdale. It’s been weeks, four or five, she can’t remember. It feels like years, a lifetime.





	we decided to be infinite

**Author's Note:**

> Most of you have proably already read this; I posted it on tumblr ages ago but I just thought it should be up here too. I was 100% inspired by all the incredible versions of this that I’ve seen floating around so I decided to finally jump on the archie in/getting out of prison bandwagon, I hope you liked it!

****It’s the last day of August when she finally hears his voice again. The streets are colored, burnt auburn and hues of colors that remind her of New York; of life before Riverdale. It’s been weeks, four or five, she can’t remember. It feels like years, a lifetime.

 

She doesn’t hear what he says, too lost in the relief of hearing his voice, in knowing that he’s okay. He’s alive. “Archie,” she breathes.

 

“Ronnie,” she can feel her heart beating, pumping blood through her body. Everything working together, keeping her alive. It’s the first time in over a month that she’s felt like she could breathe.

 

“Hey,” she whispers, playing with the pendant on her neck, “your mom said you're finally allowed to have visitors,” she moves around his room slowly, tries her best to be here without changing anything. She checks her reflection in his mirror. Her eyes are puffy, lips dry and unchapped.

 

“Yeah,” is all he says.

 

“I tried to come to see you today, but they wouldn’t let me in” she swallows, trying her best not to let him hear her voice crack. He needs this. This one thing. She’s asked him to do innumerable things ever since she’d met him— asking him to do things is what landed them in this situation— and for once he needs her to do something; to be strong, to have hope even if she feels like she’s a second away from falling apart. “They mentioned something about my name not being on some list... I don’t know. I’m going to talk to your mom about it tomorrow,” she finishes.

 

“I don’t think you should come,” he says. The wind blows through the curtains of his childhood bedroom and it makes her shiver.

 

“What?”

 

“You shouldn’t come here,” he repeats, clarifies maybe. She’s not sure what’s happening. “I don’t want you to come here.”

 

“Archie you’re being ridiculous,” she scoffs, but she doesn’t think he’s joking. He sounds like he isn’t. He sounds hurt. “Of course I’m coming to see you,” she whispers this time. She thinks of all the things she’s whispered to him in this room; questions about the future, truths she’d buried a long time ago, confessions of love in the middle of the night, the light of the street coming through his window, illuminating the room.

 

“Veronica,” he says impatiently. “Don’t. I think... I think we should break up.” How can he sound so calm when she feels like the earth is about to swallow her?

 

“What?” Veronica opens her mouth, scours her mind for the right response, but no sound comes out. She

gasps for air, feels the tears in her eyes already. “What?” She repeats, louder this time.

 

“I do,” she can hear Archie trying to convince her it’s the right thing to do, a faint whisper. Like music through a wall or the way the world sounds when your head is underwater. “I’m sorry.”

 

She hangs up the phone.

 

She waits a week for him to come to his senses.

 

He doesn’t call.

 

She tries to visit him again. A guard tells her she’s not allowed to see him.

 

 

-

 

A week turns into two, then three.

 

She distracts herself with the speakeasy. She doesn’t like its current setup; it needs tables and chairs and furniture that doesn’t look older than Riverdale itself.

 

So she spends every waking hour making it the perfect escape, somewhere to go when it feels like the walls are caving in.

 

It’s exciting and special. This place is the only thing in her name. The only thing that’s hers.

 

It needs a lot of work. She has no idea how she’s going to afford it but she’s going to get it done. She can handle it.

 

She’s Veronica Lodge; she can handle anything.

 

 

-

 

Reggie is funny sometimes and cute and she’s in desperate need of a distraction. He asks her for a job and she gives him one— she can use all the help she can get.

 

He kisses her in the basement of Pop’s, her newest investment, and she lets him. Let’s his hands run through her hair and up her shirt and all over her.  

 

It doesn’t do anything to help.

 

She can still feel Archie all over her, she stills ends up in his room every night—stumbles through the Andrews’ house in the dark all the way from the guest room.

 

The trial isn’t going well. The district attorney is brutal and she’s dragging up every experience from Archie’s past to make him look guilty.

 

Mostly stuff about the black hood; the red circle, vowing to murder that monster, buying a gun from Dilton Doiley all those months ago when he was scared out of his mind.

 

She refuses to give up hope, wishes she could be there for him more than anything, and she still doesn’t understand why he won’t let her be.

 

It’s one hundred different things at once; a truck full of things she’s trying so hard not to feel smashing right into her. So she kisses Reggie to distract herself.

 

Even though it doesn’t work.

 

 

-

 

Another night that she can’t sleep—she’s started to lose count of how many it’s been. She hears the house phone ringing, cutting through the silence the house had fallen into and rushes to answer it before it wakes Fred up.

 

He’s barely been getting any sleep, either. She hears him moving around late at night, finds him in Archie’s room in the middle of the night on more than one occasion.

 

She hasn’t heard him walking around at all tonight, hopes it means he’s finally getting some rest. One of them should. She picks up the phone frantically just to put the noise to an end. ‘You’re about to receive a call from Shankshaw prison, inmate, “Archie Andrews,”’ An automated voice tells her. “Do you accept the

charges?”

 

“Yeah,” she whispers instantaneously, clears her throat, “yes I do.”

 

“Hey,” He says tiredly. She feels like crying. She’d almost forgotten the sound of his voice. She can’t find the words, none that make sense or feel like the right thing to say. “Dad?”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles into the line, her voice small and delicate. “Your, uh, your dad’s asleep.”

 

“Oh,” his voice is slightly louder.

 

“Is everything okay?” She drums her fingers on the kitchen counter anxiously.

 

“Yeah I just,” he sighs, “couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Me neither.” It’s raining outside and she misses him.

 

“I miss you,” he whispers, reading her mind. A small sob escapes her lips. The softness of his voice is enough to make her forget that her entire life is falling apart. “God, I miss you so much.”

 

“I miss you too.” She says, smiling into the darkness. “Are you okay...” she pauses, “all things considered?”

 

“I don’t know,” he says. He sounds terrified. She wishes she could hold him right now, run her fingers through his hair and caress his cheek and whisper that everything is going to be okay.

 

She doesn’t know if she believes that anymore.  

 

“Archie,” she whispers. She doesn’t want to ruin this moment, she’s missed the sound of his voice, waited so long to hear it again, but she has to know. “I.. Is it ... You know this isn’t my fault right?”

 

“What?” He asks, confused. “Of course I do.”

 

“Then why are you doing this?” She has to hold back tears. “Why won’t you let me see you? Please,” she says tiredly. She’s not sure what she’s asking, not sure if she wants to know the answer. She’s never felt so broken. “Tell me. Because I can’t think of any other reason.”

 

Nothing.

 

She feels sick to her stomach, waits for an answer but he doesn’t say anything. “Okay.”

 

 

-

 

There was a moment, back before everything went straight to hell, where they were just happy. Just kids, in love and happy.

 

‘Soulmates’ he’d said once.

 

A moment where Archie kissed her in the blue light of their favorite diner and Betty captured it on film; the perfect moment. It’s sitting in his bedroom now, framed on his dresser. It feels like a dream or another life. Back before her father sent the love of her life to prison.

 

She feels sick just thinking about it; her father did this.

 

And she knows it’s not her fault, she does, but she can’t help but feel responsible. Archie was trying to impress her when he got into business with her father, she’s the one who encouraged him to do it. She might as well have slapped on his cuffs right then and there just by letting him into their messed up world.

 

Veronica never thought she could hate her father; no matter how bad things got or how much they argued she never thought their relationship was capable of becoming this frayed.

 

But now, after this... she hates him. Hates every part of her that is anything like him. What kind of a monster does this to a kid?

 

He had to have known what this would do to their relationship, had to have made a conscious decision that he would rather have Veronica out of his life completely than let Archie get the better of him.

 

What kind of monster does that to their own daughter?

 

Knowing the answer doesn’t stop her from showing up at the Pembrooke every day, begging him to do something, to give up and get Archie out of this mess.

He doesn’t, but she keeps going.

 

So, it might not be her fault, but it sure as hell feels like it is.

 

 

-

 

Before she knows it, it’s September. School starts again and everything feels different because he’s not here. He’s nowhere. Riverdale doesn’t feel like Riverdale without him.

 

People Archie’s known his whole life, friends and teachers alike have set up a small memorial by his locker, candles and flowers and notes that say they're all rooting for him. A memorial. Like he’s dead, gone forever. She wants to scream at them all, rip apart the pictures and shut the whole thing down.

 

She can’t walk through the halls without thinking about him. He’s like a ghost, haunting her wherever she goes.

 

Remnants of him and their relationship and everything linger in the air, traces of the past year and how different everything is.

 

It’s almost the end of the day before she feels some semblance of normal again.

 

Betty calls her to Archie’s locker and she’s confused; tired and unsure until she sees it. Someone’s graffitied the word MURDERER across his locker. Big red capital letters, ink running onto a stuffed bear and the clean floor tiles.

 

She throws up in the girls' bathroom and spends what’s left of the day locked in a stall.

 

 

-

 

She finds out from Betty, of all people, why he broke up with her; that in some completely messed up way he thought he was protecting her.

 

It makes her even angrier.

 

She calls from Fred’s phone. He forgets it on the kitchen counter and she can’t stop herself, picks it up and dials before she can think it through.

 

She tells the person on the other end she’s calling on behalf of Fred Andrews and they patch her through without a problem. If only she’d known it was that easy. “You’re an idiot,” She says firmly before he says anything. She can hear him breathing on the other end.

 

“Veronica?” He asks surprised.

 

“Did you really break up with me just because you didn’t want me to visit you? Because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He doesn’t say anything. She wants to scream or cry. Maybe both.

 

“No.” Definitely both.

 

“Then what?”

 

“I don’t want you to wait for me.” He says calmly.

 

“What?”

 

“I could be in here for a long time. Months... Years... Decades even. I don’t want you tied down and holding onto an idea of us. You’d be wasting your life away and I could never ask you to do that.” Her head is spinning.

 

“You’re not asking me too,” She whispers, touches the pendant around her neck. She hasn’t been able to take it off. “And your mom is still working on the case, so is Sierra Mccoy, and Betty and Jughead solve murders for fun. No one's giving up on you, Archie..” She wipes away a tear with the back of her thumb.

 

“I am.” He says dryly. He sounds so different she almost can’t recognize his voice. “I’m not getting out, Veronica.”

 

She wonders if he’s getting any sleep in there, if he’s eating, and if he feels like a part of himself is missing too.

 

He ends the call before she can ask.

 

 

-

 

She doesn’t hear from him again at all. He doesn’t call. She doesn’t expect him to.

 

They’re still not together. He’s made that clear. He’s still trying to protect her. And she might find it admirable if it didn’t feel like her heart was being dismantled piece by piece.

 

Reggie asks her out and she says yes.

 

He brings her roses and takes her to a movie at the Bijou. He’s not the same person he was a year ago, seems to have grown a conscience and become someone she might really like.

 

She surprises herself and actually has a good time. A really good time.

 

They watch a French film. He kisses her as the credits start rolling and she enjoys it. Kisses him back because she needs this. Needs to be okay.

 

She’s tired of fighting for someone who doesn’t want to fight for her.

 

It feels so good, for one fleeting moment, to be happy and to feel something new.

 

 

-

 

When it finally happens she doesn’t get a call, no knock on the door or surprise at school. She gets a text from Betty, just past 3 AM.

 

_He’s getting out._

 

Her chest does this funny little lurch, almost as if it shudders to a stop for an infinitesimally small second.

 

 

-

 

It’s one last day in court before they officially release him. She spends three hours deciding what to wear, nothing feels right, nothing feels appropriate.

 

This all still feels like a dream. That, or it’s a nightmare that she’s finally, finally, waking up from.

 

She eventually settles on a skirt and a blouse she’d had since she was fourteen; her lucky shirt. She thinks she was probably wearing this the first time she met him.

 

Almost the entire school is there, all holding hands, sitting completely still. As if moving might mean that this could fall apart. Veronica still isn’t sure what warranted this miracle.

 

She doesn’t care.

 

She sits in the back of the room, catches a glimpse of Archie as he approaches his seat and almost loses her footing. He looks so different. She wonders how much this has all changed him, if he’s still the same person he was before he left.

 

He catches a glimpse of her, smiles at her through a room full of people and she realizes she doesn’t care.

 

The district attorney confirms that they’re dropping all charges against Archie. The judge drops her gavel and that’s it.

 

Just like that; he’s free to leave. She almost can’t breathe.

 

 

-

 

She’s not waiting outside when he’s released. She’s not at home when he gets there. She always thought she would be but instead, she’s at the speakeasy, welcoming customers and serving drinks and doing whatever she can to keep herself busy.

 

She has no idea what she’d say to him. And as much as she hates to admit it, he probably doesn’t want her there anyway.

 

He knows about her and Reggie.

 

She convinces herself that she doesn’t feel guilty. He’s the one who pushed her away, he has no right to be... anything, now that she’s finally moving on.

 

Except she isn’t. Not really.

 

She doesn’t want to be there anyway. Not as much as she should, still resents him for making this decision for her.

 

She ignores the voice in her head screaming liar.

 

 

-

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hi.” She hasn’t seen him in months and somehow that’s all she can muster up. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, drumming his fingers on the marble.

 

The speakeasy, still unnamed, closed a little late— Reggie had practice tonight so he couldn’t work his shift which meant she’d had to wait until everyone left.

 

She’s exhausted.

 

“So I guess we’re living together,” he says awkwardly.

 

She feels nervous. “I guess so,” she says softly, tries to pinpoint the exact moment that she decided she had to feel nervous around him. “Do you want me to leave?” She asks nonchalantly, only realizing after she’s said it that she has nowhere to go.

 

“No,” Archie says instantaneously. “Do you want to leave?”

 

“No,” she replies tiredly.

 

“Then don’t.” He says. He stands up and grabs a mug from the cupboard above the counter; the big one because he knows it’s her favorite. He knows her. “You want something to drink?”

 

She nods. “Coffee.” He looks at her questioningly and she shrugs, “I still have an essay due tomorrow.”

 

“Hmmm,” He smiles—It warms her entire body, fills every crevice and crater of it with content— fills a pot of coffee and turns it on. “I’ll tell you this, I definitely didn’t miss homework in prison.”

 

She doesn’t understand how he’s already joking about it when her heart still hasn’t stopped racing, her brain hasn’t processed that he’s here, right in front of her. She laughs wholeheartedly, nonetheless. “I’ll bet.”

 

“Yeah,” He laughs, it sounds sweet. Like home. “That’s why I got arrested in the first place. It was all part of my master plan.”

 

“Uhuh,” she nods, rolls her eyes. “I see you didn’t lose your sense of humor.”

 

“Never.”

 

“Hmmm,” she sighs, points to the pot behind him, “coffee’s ready.”

 

Archie smiles faintly and fills the mug for her, places it on the counter in front of her. “Thanks,” she mumbles, taking a sip. It burns her lips. Archie nods silently and she puts the mug down in front of her. “I’m glad you’re back.” She says honestly.

 

She wants to hug him or say something more important but they’re not together anymore and she doesn’t know how this new relationship works. She doesn’t know where they stand. “Sense of humor and all,” she laughs softly. “I missed you.”

 

 

-

 

“We’ve got an empty bedroom,” Cheryl tells her. They’re having lunch in the cafeteria. Archie’s sitting just at the next table and she keeps glancing over at him, can’t seem to stop. Like maybe if she looks away he might disappear, “earth to Veronica!” Cheryl rolls her eyes, waves a hand in front of her face.

 

“I heard you,” Veronica sighs, moves her food around with a fork aimlessly.

 

“Well,” Cheryl says, stares at her expectantly, “do you want it?”

 

“What?” She asks, voice rising much higher than she expected it to. A few people turn to stare at her, Archie meets her eyes from across the room and she mouths a quick ‘sorry.’ She turns toward Cheryl again. “I have a place to stay.”

 

“You’re living with your ex,” she says incredulously. It’s not as absurd as she makes it sound. “It’s weird, and you need an intervention. This is it.”

 

“It’s not weird,” Veronica assures her, takes a sip from her bottle of water. “We’re fine.”

 

“It is weird, girl,” Josie says, rolling her eyes. Veronica glares at her.

 

“Thank you!” Cheryl exclaims with a smile. “It’s crazy,” she says, steals an overcooked fry from Veronica’s plate, “and unhealthy. You can’t expect to get over him if you’re living with him.”

 

I am over him, she wants to say. Except she isn’t. She knows it, knows that they’ll both see right through her so she doesn’t waste her energy. “Okay,” She sighs, “I’ll take it.” Cheryl smiles, warm and sweet and it convinces her that she might be able to actually get over him.

 

She’s not sure if that comforts or terrifies her.

 

She has her things packed in three days, it’s not a lot— everything she could manage to squeeze into two suitcases after her mother had let her into the penthouse for a mere five minutes.

 

And just like that Archie’s out of her life; just a friend. She has no reason to see him anymore. It doesn’t matter that she’s memorized every little detail about him and knows him better than she knows herself.

 

And it’s not only Archie she realizes; Fred Andrews is the closest thing she’s had to a father in what feels like the longest time. Maybe forever. She’ll miss him, miss being taken care of. She’ll miss knowing there’s someone waiting up for her.

 

Cheryl is living in a sweet little cottage with Nana Rose, far away from Thornhill and all the trauma it brought her. It’s cozy and warm and smells like lavender.

 

The first thing Veronica thinks is that it doesn’t feel like home.

 

...

 

There’s a homecoming dance.

 

It’s a whole big thing, and any other time Veronica would be the first one there, but she’s not sure if she can handle something like this.

 

But Cheryl gets her a dress, the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and Reggie asks her to go with him. It’s enough to sell her on the idea.

 

Veronica Lodge has never been one to say no to a party. So, no surprise there.

 

She is surprised when Archie shows up with Betty on his arm, hands linked together. She feels like she’s going to be sick.

 

She’s even more surprised when he interrupts her and Reggie, dancing under retro disco lights, to ask her to dance.

 

Reggie looks at her questioningly and she whispers, “just give me a minute.” He nods slowly, kisses her— more for Archie’s benefit than her own— and then heads off towards the bowl of spiked punch.

 

She forgot what a good dancer Archie is. She’s only danced with him a handful of times, the last being at her confirmation. They never got to go to one of these together.

 

Their timing was never right.

 

“So, you and Betty?” She asks, interlacing her fingers behind his neck. She tilts her head toward his date for the evening, she’s talking to someone else Veronica doesn’t know. Betty was always the better one of the two at making friends.

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” She says softly, focuses her gaze on a mess of confetti at the back of the room.

 

“Something came up with Jughead,” he says, “He had to help his dad with something. Betty and I were both probably going to spend the night sulking, but she convinced me to come here instead.”

 

“Oh,” she smiles faintly. “Why were you sulking?”

 

“Why do you think?” He asks softly. All the lights in the gym are suddenly too bright and she doesn’t know what to say.

 

Before she can think of anything, the song ends and his hands fall from around her waist. “I guess you should probably get back to your date,” he says.

 

“Yeah,” She sucks in a deeps breath. Everything between them feels unfinished.

 

She turns to leave, but he stops her, catches her hand in his. She spins on her heels, meets his gaze again. “I’m happy for you, Ronnie.” He says. It sounds genuine. “I’m happy that you’re happy. You deserve it.”

 

There are a thousand things she wants to say, her brain feels like it’s working on overdrive, running a mile a minute. All she manages is a soft “thank you.”

 

And then he disappears into the crowd.

 

 

-

 

She breaks up with Reggie two days later. It’s the right thing to do.

 

His aren’t the arms that she wants to be wrapped up in or the eyes she wants to get lost in.

 

He wants to fight her on it, she can tell. If this were a different lifetime or a different story she might’ve really given him a chance and they might’ve gotten a happier ending.

 

In this universe, she’s in love with Archie and she always will be.

 

He looks hurt, keeps her hand in his even as the words fall from her mouth, even as she breaks a little piece of his heart. “I get it,” he sighs, defeated. Tired. “Archie’s back.”

 

Archie’s back.

 

 

-

 

Her phone rings and she answers it instantly. “Archie,” she says, to be certain. She already knows it’s him doesn’t need to look at the screen to be sure.

 

She’s shopping for party supplies with Toni, walking around the grocery store with an eagerness to get out of here as soon as possible.

 

There's a small laugh at the other end of the line, and she can't help the little twitch of a smile.

 

“Hi,” she breathes out, tries to ignore the smirk on Toni’s face as she shamelessly eavesdrops, not even trying to hide it.

 

She holds the phone to her chest, whispers that she’ll just be a minute, and turns on her feet. She walks to an empty aisle close by, away from Toni’s perked up ears, leaves her to search for streamers on her own.

 

She stops by a shelf comprising an assortment of chocolates, grips the cold metal with her free hand to steady herself, to not feel like the wind’s going to blow her away.

 

“Sorry... Hi,” she says again, and there's nothing but tension crackling through the phone line to fill the silence. “What’s up?”

 

“So...” He starts, stops himself.

 

“So.” She echoes. He lets out a little laugh again. He sounds nervous. It reminds her of kissing him for the first time in the darkness of Cheryl’s coat closet. 

 

And then she hears the breath leave his lips in one big, heavy winded sigh. The kind that could blow a door shut on a warm summer afternoon.

 

“So, I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said at the dance,” he says, doesn’t stop to catch his breath, just running away with his words. “And I know you need time. I need it too. God, I’m nowhere near ready for you, Veronica,” he whispers. She feels her heart racing.

 

“And I know.. I know I messed up and I don't want to confuse things further, or get my hopes up.” He continues, breathlessly, “I want to give you time I swear I do because you need it. And I get it. I do. I know we're in this really weird and awkward space right now, and we both still need to figure out so much, but I need you. I mean, I need someone and I,” he pauses to catch his breath. Her heart feels like it’s stuck in her throat.

 

Archie sighs again. For a fraction of a second, it’s like time stands still. Like they’re back to where they were a few months ago and she wants to tell him everything.

 

“I,” his voice is so soft it terrifies her. “We’re still friends, right?”

 

Veronica swallows, “Always.”

 

“Good. That's good.” He whispers.

 

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I’m not going anywhere, Archie.”

 

This thing— him and her and whatever they are—there’s no denying it. Or running from it. And that terrifies her.

 

What frightens her, even more, is that she doesn’t want to.

 

 


End file.
